Thursday 7 December 2023

Lest We Forget: Another Bead Baster

 On the previous thread, mr inmate reminded us about Glenys-Six-Pensions. So, not wanting to let the occasion pass without an essay from mr ishmael to serve as obituary, I had a little dig around in the archive. Here we go:  

Well, I'd just like to say to the working people of Britain, as a working man myself, yes, going to university and studying the very difficult subject of industrial relations is work, too, as is lecturing part-time for a charity, which I did for a couple of years, at least, before becoming a tireless Labour MP and working myself almost into an early grave, these past fifty years, on behalf of other people, what we call ord-in-erry people; and as a stalwart, yes and tireless, totally tireless and indefatigable champion of working people, for all of my tireless working life, and even now, in retirement, I am still tirelessly and totally,  with no thought for myself, toiling  relentlessly and without pause, daily, in the House of Lords, on behalf of working people, of whom I am, let's face it, one at heart, and have never  denied my working classness, mine and the wife's, Baroness Kinnock's. And do you know what, well, I'll tell you a story about my Baroness Glenys, 

but before I do I should mention that she's the first, the very first one,  the originator, if you will, the pioneeress, as it were, the very singular and uniquely first in a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred, a hundred thousand generations of  her family to, after, after, mind, giving singular and unique and unprecedented and unrivalled service to the peoples of Europe, to  sit in the House of Lords, doing a proper job, ministering for Africa - on which, I would just mention, Lady Glenys, having read all the H Rider Haggard books,  is a world expert, King Solomon's Ring, she knows them all - for my old mate, Gordon Brown, at a salary wholly and completely and utterly apposite and appropriate and entirely consistent with her training as a primary school teacher, of a hundred thousand pounds a year, whether she stayed for work or not, yes, yes, just had to turn up and sign-in, yes  rather like her attendance allowance at the European parliament.  But no, we're both very busy people, working our fingers to the bone on behalf of ord-in-erry people, it's only right and proper and decent and consistent with the highest standards of fair play and decency that people like myself and  Lady Kinnock  are properly rewarded, no, no, whether we do any actual, measurable, physical work is entirely and completely, utterly and unequivocally, wholly irrelevant, it's the possibility, y'see,  of our presence which needs to be justly rewarded.  

You know when I was lecturing for the WEA, before I fully  entered selfless and wholly tireless public service, I often used to tell my students about the parable of the Labourer being worth his hire, and, let's face it, since I am Labour personified, the man who invented New Labour, isn't it only right and fair and decent that I be showered with taxpayers' money? 

And after all, on two occasions I should have been prime minister, if only the electorate hadn't got things so cataclysmically, woefully, abysmally, disastrously and apocalyptically wrong, and so I should, in a fair world, be drawing two prime minister's pensions and, and be the first so-o-o-shul-ist Knight of the Garter 
But I was saying about Lady Kinnock, y'know, when we go back to the constituency, which is at least once every five years or so - yes, on expenses, naturally, it is work, 'snot as though we like those people - Lady Kinnock has no side to her at all.  Oh, she let's those clapped-out old miners' wives and widows curtsy to her, fair enough, but it makes them happy, see, and no harm in poor people  hoping that  their betters, in this case, Lady Kinnock and myself, might shed a little stardust on them.  But what I love about Lady Kinnock is that when some chronically ill, wheezy old bloke, some mug who's voted Labour all his life, and has nothing to show for it, bows to her and calls her M'lady, do you know what she says, she says, no need for all that, amongst old friends, 

why don't you just call me Madam?

This pair of smug, thieving  cunts, Thicko Neil and Brassneck Glenys Kinnock, despite never having done a day's work - well, maybe she did a bit of teaching but mostly she was just barging into the Windbag's limelight - have amassed six public sector pensions, the largest by far of which come from  Europe, where the baggage distinguished herself amongst all the other thieves, by going through the revolving door of the European parliament, signing-in for her daily allowance, dashing out through the door, hailing a taxi to an EasyJet plane  back to London and claiming for a first-class BA flight allowance, and then repeating the whole thing ad infinitum. It was all, like slavery, legal at the time, and Glenys Crow always insisted that she had done nothing wrong, even though she's a rotten despicable bastard. It was Lady Kinnock's excess which caused the rules to be changed, (see below) perhaps her only accidental achievement in a lifetime of cheap hustling.
The standard monthly payment for all MEPs is 7,957 euros (£6,537). It is roughly on a par with a British MP's salary, but when the pound is weak, MEPs earn more than MPs.
MEPs also get a flat-rate monthly allowance of 4,299 euros to cover office expenses, such as office rent, phone bills and computer equipment.
In addition, MEPs can claim for travel related to their official duties in Brussels and Strasbourg. In the past they could claim for an expensive flexible economy class flight even if they flew low-fare. But under the new rules they have to submit their ticket (which can be business class on air, or first class on rail) and will be reimbursed for what they paid.
A separate annual travel allowance - 4,243 euros maximum - covers official trips to other destinations. And they can claim for up to 24 return journeys in their home country.
MEPs also get a daily subsistence allowance - now 304 euros - for attendance at parliamentary sessions. It is intended to cover things like hotel bills and meals.
And they are entitled to reimbursement of two-thirds of their medical expenses.
The Kinnocks' earnings for his ten-year stint as a Commissioner - during which none of the accounts were signed-off and her fifteen years as MEP, both jobs scandalously tawdry NewLabour sinecures are below:
  • A total of £775,000 in wages for Lady Kinnock and £1.85 million for her husband, adding up to £2,625,000.
  • Allowances for Lady Kinnock’s staff and office costs of £2.9million.
  • A £64,564 ‘entertainment allowance’ for Lord Kinnock.
  • A total of five publicly-funded pensions, worth £4.4million, allowing them to retire on £183,000 a year.
  • A housing allowance that allowed them both to claim accommodation costs although, as a married couple, they lived in the same house in the Belgian capital between 1995 and 2004.

In addition to these sums the Kinnocks, as peers, can collect three hundred pounds a day for lunching and dining haute cuisine  at massively subsidised prices in the House of Lords as well as using the palace of Westminster as their registered business address, like they all do.

From Open Europe.

Destinations of the “fact-finding missions” are often suspiciously glamorous, involving places like the Caribbean, America and Australia, although less prosperous countries such as Rwanda have also hosted them as election monitors. Open Europe’s Lorraine Mullally said: “Never mind the gravy train, the European Parliament is more like the gravy plane. MEPs are flying around the globe clocking up thousands of miles on dubious ‘fact-finding’ trips to luxurious locations.”

I remember nearly pissing  the bed, one morning, listening to Lady Glenys, in some election monitoring junket in Africa, lecturing Today listeners about what she would and would not tolerate in Africa,  the very minimum I would agree to is blah-bla-blah, like anyone in the whole world gave a flying fuck about the thick, greedy doxy. 

Mrs Kinnock’s league-topping travel for her last five years cost more than £51,000 and the miles flown totalled nearly 127,500.
The ginger gabshite himself is equally distinguished 
 In his ten-year stint as EU Commissioner, the organisation's accounts - accounts of our money - were never signed-off, never approved as being true and accurate,  and Kinnock, like the fucking Stalinist he is, harassed and persecuted the whistle blower who made this fact known.
 Neil Kinnock stood accused last night of trying to cover up a multi-billion pound scandal at the heart of the European Union.
The European Commission's former chief accountant claimed the ex-Labour leader - who is Britain's senior EC commissioner - tried to
silence her when she uncovered evidence of mismanagement, incompetence and fraud in the EU's £63billion budget. 

Marta Andreasen says the crisis could be worse than the business accounting scandals over Enron and WorldCom because it is impossible to trace EU accounts.
She warned that a total absence of basic accounting standards and effective computer systems leaves EU budgets 'massively open to fraud.'
But when she raised her concerns with Mr Kinnock - the man responsible for cleaning up Brussels - she claims he moved her to another job and tried to stop her giving evidence to the European Parliament.

She also claims she was threatened with the sack and faced harassment and that she was followed in Brussels and her private e-mails were hacked into.
But look, as I never tire of saying, we're all friends here, all workers in the glorious cause of whatever it was, I forget now.  
So, friends, and we are all friends here, yes, and comrades too, comrades in unearned luxury, at this time, when a few, a tiny few, an infinitesimally minute few, that's to say most people outside the tent,  are saying that we should decouple, isolate ourselves, shrink back into primitive, indeed prehistoric mono-nationalism I  would counsel the other working people in this land that a vote against Europe is not in Lady Kinnock's and my interest. 

 Were it not for Europe her ladyship and I would not have amassed and continue to amass a fortune in excess of ten million pounds, 
our children would not be similarly set for life in cushy jobs with hefty pensions and expenses. 
 Do you really want to risk all this fantastic progress  by voting to leave Europe?


inmate said...

We shouldn’t forget that these two thieving bastards are just the shitty end of the big stick they used to beat us with. The UK sent 713 MEPs to Brussels in the forty + years of membership, all entitled to claim the same expenses. The last ones out the door were paid between £150k and £176k ‘golden goodbye’. Even the cunt Farage was ‘entitled’ to the payoff, the man who spent 18 years there, trying to get the UK out. And, we still pay for their pensions, tax free of course.

Mike said...

Happy days

Anonymous said...

Something mr mongoose might enjoy for a moment:

"I mimic fraudulent noises" (or) "cunt's memorial is unified"...


Twisted (if obvious) clue : quidnam bonum Romani nobis fecerunt? (Probably dog Latin, for which I can only apologise.)



mongoose said...

It's a parasitic clan is what it is. They all need gassing - expecially the half-wit son.

What have the romans ever done for us, mr v? Not much recently. Ooh, anagrams. Just a sec.

mrs ishmael said...

Thank you, mr mike, for the classic clip of the thieving baster Kinnocks cavorting at the seaside.
No wonder the political classes by and large wanted to stay in Europe, mr inmate - they were entitled to that gravy train, weren't they?
Sounds delicious, mr verge - looks like mr mongoose is struggling ....

mongoose said...

Nope. Don't think I can do it.

Anonymous said...

It was a bit unfair mr mongoose, any brickbats you have planned are probably well deserved. The two anagrams are from "de mortuis nil nisi faecum" in honour of the ishmaelite tradition of speaking harsh truth to dead bastards, or bead basters as must now call them.

When I used google to check whether the correct spelling is fecum or faecum, both words produced a top hit from Canada. Try it - those Canucks, eh, what are they like?

Another way of looking at the question about Roman heritage might be so say quite a lot, especially in the Bread & Circuses/cultural cruelty department, and I'm sure I remember a former regular here used to call mr ishmael "our Juvenal", and they surely had a point.



mrs ishmael said...

That is very clever, mr verge - those particular beadbasters deserve both anagrams. Most apposite.
And thank you for adopting "beadbasters" - inclusive, innit. Dyslexics welcome here.

mongoose said...

Well, thanks, mr v, but I gave up Latin in 1976, though I can still read it a bit roughly. My mate, a retired teacher, can - or could - converse in the bugger and used to do just that in the pub with his similarly gifted gf.